


Tender

by ClassyFangirl



Series: Belly Achin' [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Belly Kink, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Canon, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 02:00:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClassyFangirl/pseuds/ClassyFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The remaining two members of the K-Science division receive some bad news about budget cuts, Hermann's father is a passive-aggressive asshole, and Newt comforts Hermann in the best way he knows how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tender

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely geniusbee on tumblr! This can be read as a sequel to Eat Up, or it can be entirely separate, totally up to you.

“You gotta tell me, man,” Newt says. “How bad is it?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Well, no shit, but I still have to know.” Newt pushes his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Come on. Just read what it says.”

Hermann sighs and reads, “‘A further forty percent will be cut from the Pan Pacific Defense Corps’ Kaiju Science Division-’”

Newt groans and drops his head to his desk. “Mother _fucker_ ,” he says. “Forty- forty percent? Seriously? I’m not mishearing you, right, you’re not saying fourteen?”

“Forty,” Hermann repeats bitterly. This draws an anguished screech from Newt, who begins a truly impressive, if curse-filled, explosive tirade against the United Nations and “The Man”, whoever that might be these days. Hermann tunes him out with the practiced ease of ten years, and continues reading the memo.

_The funding cut from these divisions will be reappropriated to the Wall of Life project. The Wall of Life, spearheaded by Doctor Lars Gottlieb, will defend civilian lives and property in a way the Jaeger program was unable to accomplish. “The Jaeger Project is dead,” said Doctor Gottlieb. “It is no longer a viable option for the future. Any decent mind ought to exit the program immediately- the best of them did years ago.”_

Hermann sees himself crinkle the paper into a ball, sees himself throw it furiously across the room, but he doesn’t feel it. He cannot feel anything but his own rage, can’t hear anything but his voice, _“So eine willensschwache, törichte Schande! Wie kann er diese Feigheit nur unterstützen?! Dieser schreckliche alte Mann-_ ” and, distantly, Newton, “Hermann, man, are you okay, what’s wrong-”

Hermann drops into his chair and tries to control the anger pounding at his chest, deep breaths, in, out, in, out. He watches Newt pick up the memo and smooth out the wrinkles. Newt’s face changes from confusion to rage to sorrow, quick as anything. “Jesus,” Newt sighs. “That- that stupid, stupid-” He lets out a frustrated noise and Hermann closes his eyes.

He can feel Newton standing over him, his warmth just inches from Hermann’s face. “He’s a stupid old bastard,” Newt says quietly. “He’s- he’s a _shithead,_ okay, he doesn’t _get it_.”

“Get what?” Hermann asks- admittedly, to be difficult more than anything else.

“ _Any_ of it,” Newt says. He lets out a quiet _oof_ and Hermann feels him closer to his legs, his hands resting carefully on his knees. “He’s dumb and his opinions suck. Here- tell me something that proves you believe he’s stupid, okay? Say something, I know you’ve got plenty of ammo.”

Hermann opens his eyes and looks down at Newt, crouched at his lap and staring up at him with a serious expression. “He’s an old German,” Hermann says. “He should know better than to put his faith in walls.”

Newt grins and gently rubs Hermann’s thigh. “Damn right! You know he’s an old bastard and he _sucks_. Forget him.” Newt stands and presses a kiss to Hermann’s forehead. “I’m gonna lock the door,” he says. “Let’s forget all about him together.”

Hermann allows himself a ghost of a smile. “If you insist, Doctor Geiszler.”

“I do indeed, Doctor Gottlieb. C’mon.”

Newt hangs up the sign he’d made especially for busy days and times like this ( _“BRILLIANT MINDS AT WORK!! DO NOT DISTURB!!_ ), shuts the door, and locks it up. He starts stripping as he walks back to Hermann’s chair. “Hermann, you are gonna have the time of your life,” Newt declares as he sheds his shirt. “I guarantee it.”

Hermann smiles at him, how proudly and easily he walks forward- Newton has not been embarrassed by his body in a long time, not since Hermann made his...particular affections clear. He loves those beautiful, awful tattoos, and he loves how they stretch over Newt’s stomach, how Newt’s stomach hangs over the top of his ludicrously tight jeans. He is _art,_ and seeing him so confident in the masterpiece of his body makes Hermann’s entire being feel pleasantly warm.

Newt kicks off his shoes, tugs off his jeans and boxers, and lowers himself onto Hermann’s lap. Not all the way, not resting his whole weight on him, but somewhere in between standing on his own and sitting fully on Hermann. He’s not particularly heavy, being as short as he is, but Newton is always silently looking after Hermann’s leg, wordlessly fussing over positions that are the most comfortable for him. Newt smiles and hooks his arms over Hermann’s shoulders. “The floor is yours, Doctor Gottlieb,” he says, and he swivels his hips, brushing his bare ass against Hermann’s cock, and it sends a spark through his body.

Hermann grasps Newt’s hips, watching where his thumbs sink into the flesh of Newt’s stomach. Newt hums happily and grinds down, every thrust of his hips electric.

“Gorgeous,” Hermann murmurs, dragging one hand across the inked expanse of Newt’s belly. He presses, just a bit, just a little bit of pressure, and he watches how the skin indents beneath his hand. Hermann wishes he could see the pair of them from the outside, wishes he could gaze at the contrast between them forever- Newt, bare and colorful on top of Hermann, fully clothed and significantly more monochromatic.

“You’re so skinny,” Newt says as he bucks his hips forward again. “You have _got_ to eat more.”

Hermann chuckles and moves a hand to comb his fingers through Newt’s hair. “I am, in fact, a perfectly healthy weight. I just don’t carry that weight the way _you_ do.” His other hand pokes at Newt’s stomach, a little harder, but with no cruelty behind the gesture. In fact, Newt grins and crooks his neck to kiss Hermann- not hungry and desperate like their more urgent liaisons (and oh, how Newt would laugh if he heard Hermann refer to them as such), but relaxed and warm, and Newt’s hip movements slow to match their new rhythm.

When Hermann is fully hard, his cock aching against the seam of his trousers and pressing insistently into Newt’s thigh, Newt unzips his pants and pulls Hermann’s erection out. He wraps a hand around it, spreading the precome over the whole length to slick him up. Newt pumps it at a lazy pace, grinning at the expression on Hermann’s face. He takes both their cocks in hand and pumps them together.

Hermann pushes forward and kisses Newt again, and they are gasping against each other’s mouths, eager, and Newt picks up the rhythm, working them both harder and faster, until, with the slightest, gentlest twitch of his wrist, their cocks are aimed at what Hermann will not admit is his favored target. They come on the slope of Newt’s stomach, painting his belly white. Hermann rests his head against Newt’s shoulder and watches the come drip obscenely down the bulge of Newt’s stomach.

“I bet I made you forget all about him,” Newt whispers against Hermann’s hair.

“Pardon?” It honestly takes him a moment to remember why they’d started this in the first place.

He knows Newt is grinning- he’s known the man long enough to know when it’s there, even if he can’t see his face. “Score,” he says. He kisses Hermann’s hairline and eases himself out of his lap. “I’m gonna clean up,” he says, “and then _we_ are gonna go have lunch.”

Hermann quirks an eyebrow at him. “It’s eleven hundred hours, Newton.”

“Brunch, then! Semantics. Big picture, Hermann, big picture.”

Hermann shakes his head and tucks himself back into his underwear, making a mental note to stop by his room on the way to the mess hall to clean them both up properly. But he finds himself smiling at Newt, that damn ridiculous, beautiful man.


End file.
